


I Want These Words to Make Things Right

by celeste9



Series: Promise [24]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Family, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Museums, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On an outing with the children, Lester finds out exactly what his eldest son thinks of him-- and Becker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want These Words to Make Things Right

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by fififolle. Title from Fall Out Boy. Lester's hidden talents blamed entirely on Ben Miller.

In their time together, Becker had learned to pick up on little clues that helped him know what Lester was thinking. Subtle changes in his expression and in the way he carried himself as well as aspects of his behaviour that weren't quite normal.

That was why when Becker sat down sideways on the couch and dropped his feet in Lester's lap, he could tell right away that Lester was worried. Instead of making a sarcastic comment or pushing him away, Lester absent-mindedly began rubbing Becker's shins, stroking down to his feet.

"All right, what's wrong?" Becker asked.

"What makes you think there's something wrong?"

Becker gave him a look.

Lester's mouth twitched but he continued massaging into the pads of Becker's toes. "There isn't anything wrong, exactly. It's David's birthday next week."

"Right, of course. I'm sorry, I'd forgotten."

"He wants me to take him to the Natural History Museum."

"David and his museums. He's quite the little nerd." Julia, too, actually. Becker found it amusing that it seemed likely Lester would end up with two scientists for children.

"He's been obsessed with dinosaurs since he found out what we do," Lester said with a sort of wry fondness. "It's been months now that he's been insisting he wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up. Usually he can't stick to a single profession for more than a couple of weeks."

"That's adorable. You've inspired him."

"Me? I'm about the furthest thing from a scientist we have at the ARC. Aside from you, of course."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Well, scientists preserve nature. You want to shoot it."

Becker let that slide. He could hardly dispute it, after all, though he did believe that if nature came after you with sharp teeth and claws, it deserved to be shot at. "I suppose you and Agatha will take him?"

Lester seemed genuinely puzzled. "Agatha? No, I thought you would come, actually."

"You did? Really?"

"Yes, really, don't be daft."

"I just thought… It's his birthday and…" Becker stared down at his knees, aware of how fumbling he must sound but he felt off-balance. He could never judge exactly where he stood with Lester's family, how he fitted in.

Lester spoke lightly, brushing aside Becker's insecurity like it was so unfounded it didn't even warrant consideration. "Agatha and David have their own plans. Honestly, Hils, as well as Agatha and I get on, we're divorced for a reason. An entire day stuck together in a museum with a hyperactive nine-year-old and two moody teenagers, and someone would end up whacked over the head with a rock."

"My money would be on Agatha coming out the victor," Becker said with a laugh.

"Traitor," Lester said but as he was still rubbing Becker's feet, he could hardly be taken seriously. "So what do you think? Keeping in mind Henry and Julia will be there as well, much to their disappointment, I'm sure. David loves family outings and even Henry can't resist his puppy eyes."

Becker could see that. David had his mother's eyes, big and blue, and he knew how to use them. "I'd love to go. If the kids don't mind."

"David asked for you specifically."

"Did he?" Becker tried to seem blasé, to tone down what he actually felt, because in reality that made him feel a bit giddy. So now he was considered for family outings? That was weird and unexpected but sort of amazing. "Is that what you were worried about? That I wouldn't want to?"

Lester purposely trailed the tips of his fingers down Becker's feet to his arches, which he bloody knew were ticklish. Becker made an undignified squeak and jerked his feet out of Lester's lap, tucking them under himself as a safety precaution. Bastard. He never played fair.

"I wasn't worried about anything," Lester claimed, not all that convincingly.

"Okay." Becker scooted over on the couch and leaned in to nuzzle Lester's neck. "I suppose you don't need any cheering up then."

"What sort of cheering up did you have in mind?" Lester said in an unconcerned tone, but Becker could feel the quick pattering of his heartbeat.

"Oh, the usual kind. You know, I let you have your filthy way with me. But it's all right, you're not interested. I'll have to entertain myself." Becker made as if to stand up but Lester grabbed his wrist.

"I wouldn't want you to be bored, pet."

"Of course you wouldn't," Becker said, slithering up against Lester's side. "Now, tell me what you'd like to do to me," he suggested, fingers playing with the buttons on Lester's shirt, and heard Lester's breath catch.

-

Becker was searching for wrapping paper to wrap the dinosaur encyclopedia he'd bought for David when an odd shape at the back of the closet gave him pause. He knocked aside the spare bedding covering it, astonishment growing with every second. Grabbing it with both hands, he pulled it down off the shelf. Just as he'd thought. Lester had a guitar in his closet.

Well, he had a guitar case, at least. It would certainly be strange if he were using the case to store something else, but that would still be less unexpected than if an actual guitar happened to be inside. Becker flipped open the latch.

Guitar, then. Lester had a guitar in his closet.

"James!"

Lester was grumbling as soon as he came through the door. "What? I don't appreciate being shouted at like-- Oh."

"Why is there a guitar in the closet?"

He looked flustered but spoke as neutrally as ever. "The same reason most people keep guitars in their closets, I expect."

"You can play it?" Becker asked dubiously. He felt a bit like the Lester he knew was morphing into another person before his eyes.

"Of course I can bloody play it, you idiot. Why else would I still have it?"

Becker held the guitar towards Lester. He was absolutely going to need proof. "Let's see, then."

"I don't think so," Lester said and that was definitely a hint of panic Becker detected in his voice.

"Oh, no, you've been holding out on me. I want to see you play it. I'll withhold sex until you do."

"I can manage much longer without sex than you can, precious."

That was probably true, but Becker was banking on the fact that while Lester _could_ abstain from sex, he would certainly rather not do so. "Do you want to test that theory?"

Lester mulled it over for a moment longer before sighing. He took the proffered guitar and sat down on the end of the bed. He looked remarkably natural with it and Becker wondered how he had kept it secret for so long.

If Becker had ever thought about Lester playing an instrument, which he definitely hadn't, he probably would have pictured something more... refined than the guitar. The violin, or the cello, or even the piano. He should have realised by now that Lester defied categorisation.

When Lester started to play the guitar solo from "Stairway to Heaven", Becker was forced to acknowledge his open admiration of the sight. The relaxed set of his shoulders, his elegant hands plucking the strings, the look on his face, half careful concentration and half an easy kind of contentment… Quite frankly, Becker wanted to jump Lester's bones.

Lester stopped playing, fingers hovering nervously over the strings. "Are you satisfied now? I said I played, but I never claimed to be any good."

"You're no Jimmy Page, but I'd say an ability to play that solo recognisably well makes you pretty decent," Becker said magnanimously.

"I missed a few notes, I can do it better," Lester mumbled. "Of course it isn't meant to be played with an acoustic guitar."

Becker tried hard not to smile. "You know, I think we're hard-wired to find guitar playing sexy."

"Perhaps if you're a girl."

"No, I think it works on guys, too." Then again, Lester could change a flat tyre and Becker would find it hot, so maybe he wasn't the best judge. Becker knelt behind him on the bed, rubbing Lester's neck and then down the front of his shirt to his chest. "I play a little piano."

"Really?" Lester tipped his head back against Becker, his eyes half-lidded.

"You might be surprised at the number of women who find that sexy."

"Please tell me you didn't learn to play the piano to pick up girls, Hils."

Becker chuckled, his hands continuing to stroke Lester's skin, finding a nipple and tweaking it between his fingers. "No, that was just an unexpected benefit. It was my mum, actually. She was determined that I have a well-rounded education. Piano, dancing, languages… all sorts of things."

"Well, it's like I've always thought." Lester sounded only half-aware, voice a rough murmur, hazy with pleasure. Lester was so easy to please sometimes, when he let himself relax.

"What's that?"

"You have nice hands and a talented tongue."

"Why, thank you, darling." Becker bent down to take the guitar out of Lester's slack grip and put it out of the way, before sliding onto the ground between Lester's knees. He laid his hand against the front of Lester's trousers, eliciting a tiny gasp. "Tell me one thing. Do you wait until I'm out of the flat and then pull out that guitar to get some practice in?"

Lester cracked his eyes open and glared down at Becker's head. "Do you want to get laid or not?"

"Honey, like that even deserves an answer." Becker pressed his cheek against Lester's thigh and simply breathed for a moment, only too content to let his curiosity be for now.

Later, though… Later was a different story.

-

Saturday morning, as James drove to pick up the children, he listened to Becker speaking cheerfully nearly the entire trip. James was struck by the change in him, at his apparent lack of nervousness. He remembered the first time they had made this drive, the way they hadn't spoken, the tension in the air. It felt a lifetime ago now, when in actuality it had only been, what, a year? Not even.

James pulled into Agatha's driveway and switched off the ignition. He twisted in his seat and pulled Becker in for a kiss, fast enough so that hopefully no one would catch them but long enough to make it good.

"Was that a 'please shut up, Becker' kiss?" Becker asked ruefully.

Damn, James loved the way Becker's mouth looked after he'd been kissed. He stopped looking before the urge to claim that mouth again overtook him. "I'll leave the interpretation up to you," James said as he opened his door.

"In that case, I'll assume it was a 'you're so completely gorgeous and amazing that I can't keep my hands off you, Becker' kiss."

"You would assume that," James replied, catching Becker's smile out of the corner of his eye, amused and faintly smug. Unfortunately Becker's assumption was rather close to the mark, but luckily, Becker didn't need to know that.

David came shooting out of the house, flinging his arms around James and chattering non-stop. His dog, George, was yapping excitedly, running from David to James to Becker, and then back to the door, where Agatha had come outside.

"Good morning," she said, smiling at James and going over to give Becker a kiss. "Henry and Julia will only be a moment, they're getting their bags. David, run back inside and grab yours."

David complied, George following at his heels.

"Would you like to come inside for a minute? Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, Agatha," James said.

The twins came outside and Becker opened the boot so they could stow their bags inside. James watched them, trying to assess their moods, but it was hard to tell. He supposed he would find out soon enough.

"David is so excited, James," Agatha said, voice full of warmth. "It's so good of you to do this for him."

James shrugged. "It's his birthday. I just wanted to do something right for once."

She stepped forward and embraced him. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit," she said, planting a swift kiss to his cheek as she pulled away. She stepped back from the car as Becker closed the door behind David. "Have a good time, okay?"

The drive went by quickly, David happily babbling about his gifts from Agatha and the things he wanted to see at the museum. Julia seemed to be in high spirits as well and Becker conversed comfortably with everyone. Henry was mostly silent but silence was better than insolence so James decided he could live with it.

It was a good day to spend indoors, damp and cold. Even the not terribly long walk from where they had left the car to the museum had James wishing he'd dressed warmer. Becker seemed to sense this and took the opportunity to sling his arm around James' waist, coaxing him in tight to Becker's side. James self-consciously looked to the children, but Henry was ignoring everyone and Julia and David appeared to be having an animated discussion about dodos, of all things.

James let himself relax into Becker's warmth because if Becker was this unbothered, then James wasn't going to stress over the situation. He supposed they had come a long way for a trip out with the kids to be so hassle-free.

For the time being, at least. He didn't want to get ahead of himself.

"You know who David would love?" Becker said as they stepped through the doors into the museum. "Connor."

James shuddered. "Don't even say it. I may have nightmares imagining Connor befriending my son."

"Who's Connor?" David asked.

"No one," James answered quickly, pinching Becker's waist as a deterrent. "Look, there's Dippy."

Dippy was the Diplodocus skeleton in the Central Hall and the perfect distraction. Of course David wanted to light it up, so James found himself making a donation to the museum. It was well worth it for the happiness on David's face, although he could have done without the way Becker nudged him and whispered, "Pushover."

They went to see the dinosaurs first, because James knew that was what David was most interested in. James decided he much preferred dinosaurs like this, dead and fossilised, where they no longer caused him trouble or tried to eat his employees. David's sense of wonder and excitement was infectious as he flitted around from display to display, effortlessly wheedling stories out of Becker.

Censored stories, of course. Becker had always been good at glossing over the more gruesome details of what he did.

After the dinosaurs, they spent some time in a few of the other galleries, before the inevitable trip to the gift shop. James bought David a Triceratops fossil that could be put together, as well as a Stegosaurus excavation kit. Julia spent quite a while covetously eyeing a geode while carefully not asking for it, so obviously James felt obligated to buy it for her.

And anyway, she was probably owed a gift. Julia had been perfectly behaved all day, kind to her brother and friendly to Becker. Henry, on the other hand, had been a bit less perfect. Discourteous comments had at least been kept to a minimum, but there had been an awful lot of eye rolling and the like.

Sometimes James despaired of ever finding a way to deal with Henry.

They walked out the doors of the museum to a much nicer day than when they had arrived. The sun had blessedly decided to make an appearance, warming the chill in the air.

"Camping is great fun," Becker was saying to David. "I don't get the chance to go very much anymore, what with the ARC and your dad."

"Daddy's boring," David agreed. "He'd never agree to something so messy."

Becker caught James' eye and grinned. "He's not so bad. He went hiking with me after I agreed to the opera."

"At least someone sticks up for me," James said with a mock sigh, ruffling David's hair. "You have a distressingly low opinion of me, David."

"Would you really take me camping?" David asked hopefully.

"If you want. I'm sure we could arrange something."

"I've still got my gear in storage," Becker added. "We'd have to get another tent, mine's only a small, two-person."

"Fantastic," Henry muttered behind them. "Another fake family outing but this time in the bloody woods."

"Henry," James said warningly. He should have known an entirely incident-free day was too much to ask for.

"I don't know, it might be fun," Julia said, shrugging. "I've got a friend who went camping with her family in Scotland last summer, she loved it."

Henry eyed Julia with a measure of distaste, like she had betrayed him. "You can count me out. I can't think of anything I want to do less than go traipsing around the countryside getting wilderness survival tips from ex-Captain Becker over there."

James' gaze went to Becker fast enough to catch the hurt that flashed across his face before he schooled his features into the stoic expression he adopted when he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking. If James had been a lesser man, he might have hit Henry. As it was, he said, "That's enough. You're too old for this sort of childish behaviour."

"Go on then, yell at me. It's about the only part of fatherhood you're good at."

James felt that like a punch in the gut and it took all he had not to let it show on his face.

Becker looked at James and then laid a hand on David's shoulder. "David, how would you like to get an ice cream? There's a place not far from here."

David glanced at James and Henry, clearly realising that he was being purposely taken out of the way, but he followed Becker readily enough. David hated confrontation and James hated that they were doing this in front of him, on today of all days.

Julia stayed a minute longer, unmistakably torn between supporting her twin and wanting to be far away from the theatrics, but she ran after Becker as well. She adored Henry but she was as sensible as her mother.

"Come with me," James said and led Henry a short distance away, trying to get out of the crowd as much as possible. "Did you really have to do this today? We're celebrating your brother's birthday and I'm sure the last thing he wanted was to see us fight."

Henry had the grace to look guilty but he didn't offer an apology, or even an explanation.

"I've given you a lot of leeway because I know it's a difficult situation for you, but I've just about had it. I will not stand by and let you insult my-- I won't let you insult Becker. Your rudeness is unacceptable and your mother would be ashamed of you."

"Fine, let me leave then. I'll be happy to go back to Mum's and let her be ashamed of me. Better than being here." Henry stared at James defiantly. Yes, he would like that-- Henry would probably be happy to spend all of his time with his mother.

James pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. "Where is this coming from? I thought you were getting along better with Becker."

"That's not the point."

"Then please, Henry, enlighten me." James wondered if Henry was finally going to forgo all the sniping and just say what he really thought. It probably-- no, unquestionably needed to be said but a part of James still wished he didn't have to hear it.

"It's just... you, and Becker, and... _this._ " Henry gestured expansively with his hands as if he could make it all clear. "Like you're playing at happy families, but you _had_ a family, Dad. You had us and Mum and you threw it away like rubbish, like it was nothing, like Mum..."

"You can't possibly think that. I loved your mother."

"But you were never there! If you loved her, if you loved us, you would have been there. You would have tried, like you try for _Becker."_ Henry spat out Becker's name like it was a dirty word.

It felt like there was something gnawing at James' insides, tearing him up. He couldn't say that he was precisely surprised to hear what Henry thought of him, but it hurt all the same. "Oh, Henry. It isn't that simple."

"It certainly seems to be that simple with Becker. I'm not blind, you know. I see how you are with him, and how you talk. I don't ever remember you being like that with Mum."

"Leaving aside how much you _don't_ know about Becker and me, the situation is completely different. There are things I can tell Becker that I could never have told your mother, simply by virtue of the fact that he works with me. I wasn't allowed to tell your mother what I can tell Becker."

"Right, because of your fucking top secret position," Henry said with a sneer. "But all that really is an excuse. Even I know that."

"I know how it sounds, but... If it's an excuse, it's only in part. Your mother and I..." How could he explain? How could he ever put into words what had happened, how could he possibly make Henry understand? "I made mistakes, God, I made so many mistakes. I never wanted to hurt her, Henry, you have to know that. And I never wanted to hurt you. More than anything, I never wanted to hurt you. I wasn't the husband or the father I should have been and you will never know how sorry I am for it. If I'm any better a partner for Becker it's only because I'm trying not to make the same mistakes I did before."

"I just wish… I wish you could have done that for her. Not messed up, or at least fixed it when you did. It isn't fair." Henry's voice had gone petulant, almost like a whine when he said _it isn't fair._ It made James think of years ago, when Henry had been small and so much easier to handle.

"Don't you think I've wished for that, too?" Oh, had he. In the months after their divorce James had sat in his flat, lonely and miserable, cursing himself for a fool. "I wish I could have been the husband your mother deserved. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, in the end it just isn't right. I loved your mother, I really did, but we are and have always been much better friends than we were husband and wife."

"But why? You married her, so you must have… I don't understand why you couldn't make it work if you cared about her like you said." Henry sounded so naively curious and James was reminded of how very young he still was.

"Marriage is damned difficult, Henry. You're making a promise to spend your whole life with someone but the fact is people change. I'm not the same person I was when we got married and neither is your mother. So much happened, problems and pitfalls that we never could have anticipated and we couldn't get through it. 'For better or worse' is much easier in theory than in practice."

"Then what's the point? Why do it at all?"

James thought about Agatha, her beautiful smile, and how he had wanted nothing more than to see her smile every day of his life. He thought about Becker. "Because people are stupid when they're in love. When you find that person, it makes you think you can do anything. It makes you want to try."

"And now Becker's that person for you."

Sidestepping the question, James asked instead, "Would that upset you, if it were true?"

Henry shrugged. "Yes. No. I don't know. There isn't anything wrong with him, I guess, but he, well, he isn't Mum."

It was all James could do not to laugh. That would have been much too inappropriate, but the very idea… "No, he certainly isn't. But he also isn't trying to be. Becker doesn't want to replace your mother and I don't want him to, either. Becker is simply the person I keep around because he helps me not to be so lonely." That was putting it as simply as he possibly could, because Becker was a lot more than that. "I'm sorry that person is no longer your mother but there are only so many times I can apologise for it."

"I know. I only… Sometimes I just want for us to be normal, to be a normal family."

"Well, I acknowledge that it isn't precisely normal for your father to have a boyfriend, but then, look around. What _is_ normal? Every family has its quirks. Many of them are simply better hidden."

Henry's face had gone red and his gaze was pointed downward at the pavement near James' feet. "Are you actually gay, though? Is that what you meant about being a different person?"

"No, I…" James wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he'd gone as red as Henry. "I'm sure you don't want details, so let's just leave it at 'no'."

"Becker must really be special then," Henry muttered under his breath.

James chose to ignore that. Let Henry think whatever he wanted, it didn't matter. "Is that all?"

Henry's eyes darted up, his lips thinned. "Yes, if you want. It must be such a chore for you to speak to me for once."

Oh, bollocks. "That isn't what I meant at all."

"No, it's fine. Go on, find Becker and do whatever. I don't care." Henry spun around and started to walk away.

"Henry, wait," James said and hurried forward to grab his arm.

Henry jerked away. "Damn it, Dad! You can't ever just be… Forget it."

"I can't ever be what? Tell me what you were going to say. I want to know." God, he really didn't.

"Be _here!_ Even now, when we're talking, we're having the longest conversation I can remember us having in my entire life, you're not really _here._ You're thinking about work, or Becker, or I don't know the fuck what. You're always somewhere else."

"I'm sorry--"

"Yeah, you're sorry. You're always so fucking sorry. If I had a pound for every time you said that I'd be rich." Henry's bitterness was practically leaking out of him, in his face and in his voice.

"I don't know what you want from me!" James said, frustrated, finally raising his voice, knowing he probably sounded like an immature child. "I'm trying, I really am. And I'm right here. I'm here and I'm listening, so you can say anything you want." _Please, Henry. Help me make this right._

But Henry said nothing at all, just stood there, staring, vaguely hostile.

James sighed. "I know you don't want to hear it but believe me, I am sorry. There isn't anything I regret more in this world than that I wasn't there for you like I should have been. I know I can't make it up to you, not really. All I can do is hope that you can forgive me and that I can be better in the future. I suppose I'm doing a shoddy job of that, too."

When Henry finally did reply, his voice was hardly louder than a whisper. "Not… not entirely." He scuffed his toe on the ground, knocking a rock around with his shoe. "What I said, maybe it wasn't fair. You've been around more in the past year than you have for a long time."

There was a 'but' written all over Henry's face and it wasn't hard to take a guess. "But I bring Becker, too."

"Right. It's kind of weird."

"Would you rather I didn't?" James asked hesitantly but he knew he had to. He didn't want to think about the look on Becker's face if James had to tell him _please stay here while I go and visit my kids._

"No," Henry said and the answer seemed to surprise even him. "That isn't fair to you, is it?"

"You shouldn't have to worry about what's fair for me. You're my son and I want what's fair for _you._ "

"It's not just that. I don't mind Becker, I think…" Henry laughed a little, almost self-deprecatingly. "I don't mind him."

Well, that pretty much confirmed James' suspicion that if Becker wasn't his boyfriend, Henry would be exceedingly fond of him. Henry would love Becker if he only let himself. "Can you do something for me?"

"I suppose."

James tried to think of a less abrasive way to put it, but simply couldn't. "Will you try to stop acting like such a twat around Becker? You've been better; I don't want you to think I haven't noticed and that I don't appreciate it, but I'd like you to keep trying. He would kill me for saying it, but your behaviour bothers him. Even if it has nothing to do with him, if it's only you being angry with me, he takes it incredibly personally. It isn't fair to him because none of it is his fault. Your mother and I were divorced before I even met Becker. He just wants…" James trailed off uncertainly, not knowing how to say what he wanted to. _All Becker did was love me and he got much more than he bargained on._

"I'll try," Henry said, jarring James out of his thoughts. "I know I've been awful and I'm sorry, Dad. Becker's been good to me, ever since we first met him. I'm sorry that I was… a twat." He smirked. "Shall I tell Mum that you called me a twat?"

"And here I was thinking that we'd made progress," James replied, raising an eyebrow, loving the sound of Henry's laughter. He heard it far too infrequently.

"Dad," Henry started to say, mirth fading away to be replaced by a more solemn, almost self-conscious expression. "Thanks for being honest with me."

"I'll always be honest with you, Henry, you just have to ask."

"Okay. Um, well, maybe we should find everyone else."

In complete agreement that they had done enough sharing for one day, James nodded and said, "All right. Follow me; I know exactly where Becker's gone."

He knew because it was only a five-minute walk from the Natural History Museum to an Italian ice cream parlour called Oddono's, which Becker claimed had the best ice cream he'd ever had (James was inclined to agree with him). Even if this… incident hadn't occurred, Becker likely would have dragged them there, cold weather or not. Given that Becker was upset, he'd probably got himself an extra scoop.

As they approached the entrance, James could see them through the window, sitting at a table. Becker glanced up as they came in, his features still set in that neutral expression that revealed nothing. The three of them seemed to have finished their ice cream and were just sitting together quietly.

David watched James and Henry nervously. "Are you done shouting?"

"No more shouting, I promise," James told him. "Henry is very sorry that he interrupted your outing, aren't you, Henry?"

"Sorry, David," Henry said, face contrite. "I hope I didn't wreck your birthday."

"It's okay," David said graciously. "Becker bought us ice cream, it's really good."

"Do you want an ice cream, Henry? I'll buy you one, too." Becker held out a handful of money, so awkwardly hopeful. It was half a peace offering and half a very unsubtle attempt to buy Henry's affection and James loved him for it.

Henry hesitated but then accepted the money. "Thanks, Becker."

Becker's lips curved into a small, pleased smile and James wanted to kiss the bow of his mouth, lick away every last trace of gelato.

But he managed to restrain himself and instead stood behind Becker's chair and rubbed his thumbs into the base of Becker's neck, feeling some of the tension ooze away. Becker made a tiny, contented noise and leaned into James' touch.

Julia was smirking at them, looking like she was only just able to stop herself from making a snarky comment.

James ignored her. "Is there anything else you'd like to do, David, or should we leave when Henry gets back?"

"No, we can go home," David said. He seemed subdued and James tried to think of something to say to bring back his smile.

"I've got your presents at home. You can open them when we get there."

David perked up slightly. "Okay."

When Henry came back with his cone, he looked at David, and then at James, and finally at Becker. "Becker? You still owe me a story about a Giganotosaurus. I think you said it was in an airport?"

Beneath his thumbs, James could feel the last of Becker's tension ebb. He had no idea how Henry even knew about that, but he didn't care in the slightest.

"I'll tell you on the way," Becker said, all guarded relief and optimism, and James brushed his knuckles against Becker's neck as he drew away.

"Okay, back to the car," he said and nodded at Henry, trying to convey his gratitude.

Henry's mouth quirked into a faint smile and he nodded back.

-

The rest of the day went surprisingly well. Becker told a slightly dramatised account of the incident with the Giganotosaurus, which James recalled had taken place during a particularly trying time, soon after Nick Cutter's death. But Becker made it all seem rather light and engaging, drawing attention to the utter insanity of Danny Quinn.

There was a certain softness in Becker's voice when he spoke about Danny. The two of them had had a strange, bickering sort of friendship, almost like brothers, and James knew that Becker missed Danny, worried for him, even if he never said so.

James missed Danny, too, if he was honest.

David loved his gifts, a new football, binoculars, and a book of dinosaurs filled with big glossy pictures from Becker. James hadn't realised that Becker had even bought it and was quite touched.

They had dinner and cake and watched a film of David's choosing. Because they were celebrating David's birthday, James let him stay up later than usual and he spent the evening darting from one activity to another. David's racing mind and lack of focus were rather exhausting, James had always thought.

It was a relief when he and Becker finally made it into bed. The entire day had been like a rollercoaster of emotions and James was glad to be able to just stop, stop and rest and lie there with Becker.

Of course, he had failed to take Becker's curiosity into account. "Henry's attitude has certainly seemed to improve. What did you say to him?"

"Some things I should have said a long time ago." Wistfully James found himself wondering if his relationship with Henry would be on more even footing if they had only had that uncomfortable conversation years ago.

"Secret things?"

"You just want to know if we talked about you."

"Well, yes, obviously."

"Hils," James said, utterly unable to keep the affection out of his voice. He traced Becker's jaw line with his fingertip. "It's always about me, I've told you that a hundred times. It's about me and his mother and unfortunately, you got caught in the middle because you made the dubious decision to get involved with me."

"But you did talk about me." There was a thread of apprehension woven in with Becker's stubbornness.

James tugged Becker's head down so he could kiss him, a development that Becker seemed quite content to go along with. When they parted, still breathing the same air, James said, "Henry likes you, when he forgets to pretend that he doesn't."

Becker lay down against James' side, tucking his face against James' shoulder. "Sometimes I think that's true but then he always does something to change my mind."

"He never means it. I'm afraid he got that from me." It was a personal trait that James had always found rather unattractive in his son. While he didn't lose any sleep over the frequently unkind things he said, being on the receiving end-- or, more aptly, watching Becker be on the receiving end-- of Henry's sharp tongue was another matter entirely.

"It's a bit different from the way you are."

"That's because I'm no longer an angry teenager who wants to piss off my father."

"I would have liked to see that," Becker said, chuckling. "That's enough about me. What about you?"

James frowned. "What about me?"

"You said that it's always about you. Did you two work out any of your differences?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

"I hope so, too," Becker said, the intensity of how much he meant it coming through plainly. "I know how much you care about him."

"I wish he knew that," James admitted. It was a sentiment he tried to avoid dwelling on but Becker, in these quiet moments, could get James to acknowledge many things he didn't like to think about. Sometimes he feared that he had destroyed his relationship with Henry beyond repair, that Henry would never stop resenting him.

Becker kissed James' shoulder, the light pressure of his hand on James' chest comforting. James appreciated that Becker didn't speak because any words probably would have only sounded hollow. Words were shallow comfort but Becker's solid presence was real. Just having him there made James think that somehow everything would turn out all right.

"Your kids must have got their musical abilities from you," Becker said eventually.

Oh, not the guitar again. "What?" James asked, feigning ignorance.

Unsurprisingly, Becker wasn't deterred. "You play the guitar, the twins are both musically inclined. They must have inherited it from you."

"That does seem to be a reasonable assumption." Some part of James' mind registered that Becker was attempting to distract him and was grateful for it.

"Do you sing, too? What would it take for you to sing for me?"

But not that grateful. "More than you could possibly offer."

"Sure about that?" Becker said, low and teasing, his tone starting to resemble what James thought of as his sex voice. "I'm always willing to provide sexual favours, of course, but perhaps we can put some of my other talents to good use. I can speak French to you, if you like. Lily tells me my accent is atrocious but I used to fuck a girl who liked me to talk dirty to her in French, so it can't be that bad."

James just laughed because, really, what other reaction could he possibly have? Becker's sexual history was quite… colourful.

"Or I could speak Latin, if you prefer. They say it's a dead language but it's pretty sexy spoken aloud. If you go for that sort of thing."

Which Becker did, clearly. "That's tempting, sweetheart," James said and, yes, it actually was a little, "but I think we should make it fair. I want you to play the piano for me." Surely Becker would never agree to that.

But Becker's expression went speculative. James should have known better than to underestimate his resolve. "I knew that would be a turn-on for you. And there you were, mocking me for enjoying the sight of you with your guitar."

"Maybe I just want to spread around the embarrassment."

"Liar. You're already picturing how sexy I'll be with my fingers on those keys."

Damn it. Now that Becker had said it, James was doing just that. He thought of the way Becker's long fingers looked holding the barrel of a gun and it was easier than he had expected to replace the gun with the keys of a piano in his imagination. He shifted minutely and turned his head away from Becker.

Becker laughed and rolled onto his front, pinning James underneath him. He scattered kisses along the line of James' throat and said, "My mum's out of town in three weeks. No one will be home and it can be just you, me, and the piano."

James was unconsciously bucking his hips up against Becker's thigh and he reddened as he realised it. He pressed himself back down onto the mattress but Becker followed him, his body warm and heavy and rubbing against particular parts of James' anatomy in a way that felt entirely too good for a night in which James' kids were in the flat.

"Are you implying what I think you're implying?" James asked.

"I imagine so."

"That doesn't bode well for the piano."

"James! I'm shocked. I wasn't planning on being quite that kinky. But," Becker continued, hands stroking up and down James' sides underneath his shirt, "I certainly don't want to stand in the way of you fulfilling any of your fantasies."

James bit his lip and pushed at Becker's shoulders. "Get off, Hils, fuck. I'm going to have to take a cold shower if you keep wriggling against me like that."

"A cold shower? That's so boring." Becker set his elbows onto the bed for better leverage and changed the angle of his hips, obscenely rubbing himself against James. "We can be very quiet."

"Oh, God," James gasped and wished he could let Becker keep doing what he was doing. But the kids were there and he'd made progress with Henry and he really didn't want to push his luck. "Not… not with Henry," he made himself say.

"If you insist," Becker agreed easily enough, like he understood (and he probably did), his mouth meeting James' in a messy slide before he flipped over onto his back. "But the piano? You want to?"

"Yes, I want to." Damn, did he want to.

"Don't forget your end of the bargain. You said you'd sing for me."

_Bugger._

_**End** _


End file.
